oh, you can hear me cry
by a red burn
Summary: There's a hole inside of her, a void she didn't even know was there; something had been ripped out and crushed into dust. emmaxgraham post 1x07 HAPPY ENDINGS - CHAPTER 3 UPDATED
1. one

**disclaimer:** I own my crappy writing and my tears.  
><strong>author's note<strong>: THIS IS A HAPPY ENDING STORY OKAY, because this show is supposed to be my happy fluffy show with happy endings and butterflies and rainbows and unicorns and the writers had no right to take it away from me!

/ahem

This is my take on how the story goes because this is my "haha idgaf face this is how it happens and try and stop me this is my reality and that's how it goes" version of my dear hot hipster sheriff's demise.

So, without further ado:

_**one**._

When he falls to the ground she feels the breath leave her chest; a punch to her gut and a light-headedness she isn't familiar with. She falls after him, knees scraping and head pounding, gathering him in her arms, feeling for a pulse, feeling for his breath, feeling for his heart. _He has a heart_, she chants, he has a heart, he has a heart; she felt it under her palm, he felt it under his palm, it had been strong and frantic and alive and his beat pulsed between their hands.

But she can't feel anything now, all she can feel is the unnatural warmth seeping into her palm and the rough material of his shirt inside the fist her hand formed and the tears coming forth in waves.

_Maybe you should call an ambulance_, but her brain is hazy and her eyes are blurry and her hands are shaking and her breath isn't working like it should. She shakes him and calls his name and hits a fist against his chest and begs God _oh please, oh please, oh please_; she isn't even religious.

"Graham!" Maybe if she screams louder he will listen, he will _stop this_ and wake up and open his eyes. It's a very bad joke but if he's alive she won't mind it too much.

A sob escapes her lips and she doesn't even recognize herself; it's been 10 years since she felt this vulnerable, since she let herself cry to sleep and pain overwhelm her body and the loneliness and reality of her situation hit her like a hammer. _Never again_, she had told herself, never ever she'd open herself again to _this_.

Emma hits his chest once more before the last bit of hope abandons her and covers her face with her hand, hiding herself from the tears, from the body, from the room and the little things that had become so hers and his in such a short time. Maybe if she just closes her eyes for a moment everything will be different when she opens them.

She doesn't let herself hope too much, though, sits there with her back against the desk and sobs into her palms.

_You should call an ambulance_, the thought hits her again, and this time the numbness is taking over; she had been hysterical, out of character, childish, ignoring the basics, ignoring common sense. She can't _think_, she's lost in her own prejudice. That's why the walls are there, should always be there, she berates herself. Never take them down, never let anyone in; if keeping love out is a price to not let pain in, she's willing to pay.

Emma gets up, rises slowly, tries not to look at Graham lying on the floor, worn out and tired and disheveled; almost like a ragdoll. She tries to wipe her tears, but they keep coming, her face always wet and blotchy, there are spots in her vision and for a moment she thinks she might faint.

She can still feel his lips on her like a ghost brushing across her skin and the trail his hands left as they brushed against her sides like burning holes as she reaches for the first telephone she finds and tries not to look at him; her eyes betray her and stare.

There's a hole inside of her, a void she didn't even know was there; something had been ripped out and crushed into dust because the emptiness isn't normal, _maybe it's her heart_, she thinks, maybe her heart stopped when his did.

She turns her back to him because she can't focus and her fingers shake like falling leaves as she tries to dial and she still misses the first two times. When her vision clears enough for her to hit the right numbers she hears it; a desperate gasp, a painful groan and her heart is suddenly beating an unhealthy rhythm against her chest.

When she turns he's bent over, clawing at his chest with desperate pain, coughing and gasping and she falls to her knees again, his name dies in her lips and the phone is abandoned somewhere; she doesn't notice, she falls at his side, helps him remove his tie and vest and quickly undoes the buttons of his shirt and just _holds on_.

"Graham, can you hear me?" She can't quite believe her own words, her own ears or eyes, so she touches him; run her hands down his shoulders and arms and touches his hands and let her fingers graze his cheeks and neck, lets his warmth once again seep into her palms because _this time is different_. She smiles through her tears and a laugh escapes her mouth.

When his coughing slows and his breath becomes less frantic she has a hand splayed against his back, fingers brushing ever so slightly and the tears are still falling, but this time it doesn't hurt quite so much. She helps him lean against the desk and sits across from him, her hand gently holding one of his because she can't lose the connection.

"What happened?" He sounds disoriented and his voice is strained, but there's color coming back to his face and he's holding her hand back and she can feel his heart pulsating against their fingertips.

"You just… collapsed. Your heart," her voice catches because this is still too raw, because for a few moments she had watched all her dreams fall apart.

"I felt..." he seems to be trying to look for the right words or maybe just trying to clear his head and he blinks, as if a memory has just fallen into place. "... like my heart had been ripped out."

"I should call for a doctor." This time her thoughts are in the right place and she isn't shaking so much; her tears have finally stopped and when she tries to move closer to him she realizes how tightly she' holding his hand.

"No," he says quickly, _too_ quickly and she frowns but lets him pull her towards him, keeping her from getting up, from getting to a phone. "Don't call anyone."

"Graham, you just… your heart _stopped_."

"I'm fine now."

She stays there kneeling by his side and her leg is touching his and their hands are laced and his eyes are clear. She finally feels her head pounding now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off and the earlier encounter with Regina rushes to the front of her brain; suddenly she's completely worn out as if she has just gone through a day that had 48 hours instead of 24 and when she checks the clock she's surprise to find out only a few minutes have passed.

"How's your head?"

She laughs, how can he be worried about her well being when he had just died? He _died_, she thinks, for a few minutes he had been dead, _gone_, and now her brain is finally processing the thought and as it sinks in she wants to cry again.

"It's pounding. How's your chest?"

"Burns a little."

"Graham…" His name comes in a broken whisper and his hand finds her face, palm covering her cheek and she leans into his touch before she has any control of her actions.

"I'm fine, I promise."

She closes her eyes and trusts his words because there's nothing else she can do. His touch his warm and firm and his thumb brushing gently against her skin cracks a little bit more of her wall inside.

She needs to bring those walls back in place, firm and solid and thick; she knows it's the right thing to do, the sane thing to do, but she can't, not with him because she wants to let him in, she needs him in. For a few minutes she had known what it felt like to not have him in her life anymore and that's something she isn't willing to go through _ever again_.

She's startled when she feels his lips press against hers, gently and innocent, but immediately relaxes, tries to clear her head from _those_ thoughts and just let herself enjoy the moment and when he pulls back her arms go around his neck, keeping him close.

They stay there for a while; chained together inside their embrace, inside the silent police station while the darkness rages outside.

_Tbc._


	2. two

_**Author's note**_: so here's chapter 2, hopefully it will do chapter one justice :) It's going to start being a little less "poetic" and more… action-y. There's no direct Emma/Graham in this one but I needed to write these scenes and get Regina out of the way (this time). Next will there shall be fluff though, and lots of it!

Don't forget to review! I need to know what you guys think to continue this fanfic in the right direction :) Comments is the best payment a writer can get! :)

Now, onwards:

_**two.**_

When Emma finally gets home it's already past ten and Mary is still awake, perched on a kitchen stool, a mug of cocoa in her hands and a look of worry in her eyes.

"Emma!"

As Mary jumps from the stool and runs to her direction Emma isn't sure if she's ready for this; a part of her wants to go to bed, to sleep and forget, forget this day ever happened and forget the life she almost lost and forget the heart that stopped beating; another part of her just needs a shoulder to cry on.

"What happened? I heard you got in a fight with the Mayor. And Graham! He came looking for me today and he wasn't himself…" her frantic speech dies and the house becomes silent and Emma is sure Mary can hear the sob already bubbling inside of her and fighting its way out. She holds it back though, swallows her cry and controls herself before it's too late; she knows that if she starts she won't be able to stop.

"I hit her," she says dumbly, her head a lazy throb now and there's still a bad taste in her mouth.

Mary seems to notice for the first time the cut along her eyebrow and her eyes widen and a gasp comes forth as she puts a hand over her mouth. "Are you okay?"

"Graham died." Emma flinches when she realizes what she just said, the words leaving her lips before she can stop and her hands start shaking again because the memories are flooding to the front of her brain with images and sounds and tastes she'll forever associate with _death_.

"_What?"_ The word is a whispered squeak and Mary stands there in silence, stunned and speechless.

"His heart stopped," Emma starts again and this time the words pour out like vomit, unpleasant and unwelcome and she can't stop them and it _hurts_. "He was dead for a few minutes then he came back. His heart just started beating again, and Regina hit me but I hit her back and everyone's running from her and she blames me but Graham stood up to her, he broke things off and we kissed and he collapsed and I thought he was dead, and…" then she's out of breath and out of control and the tears come again and she hates herself for it.

_Vulnerable_, she remembers, _you're being vulnerable and you're letting everyone see you weak_.

She feels Mary's arms go around her shoulders, tight and warm and a hand cradles the back of her head and she whispers soothing sounds, _everything will be okay, you're okay, shhh._

So she cries on her shoulder.

When she calms down Mary leads her to the couch and pushes a mug full of hot cocoa into her hands and rubs her back gently while she drinks and lets the cinnamon wash over her tongue. For the briefest of moments Emma wonders if this is what having a mom feels like.

Mary takes the mug from her hands when Emma is done but keeps rubbing her back and Emma's grateful, she needs the connection right now. "Is Graham okay?"

Emma nods, letting images of him kissing her dance in the back of her eyelids.

"Your head?"

"I'm fine."

They sit in silence for a while and the company is comforting; Emma wonders when they started to become best friends, when their friendship just fell into place as if they had always known each other.

"You should go to bed," Mary breaks the silence and gets up from the couch, encouraging Emma to do the same. "You're tired and nervous and you need to rest."

Emma doesn't argue at all, let's someone else take care of her for a change and tries not to think about today anymore; _she doesn't want_ to think about today anymore, she wants to put it behind her like a horrible nightmare she'll hopefully soon forget.

She's so exhausted that she's asleep the moment her head touches the pillow.

* * *

><p>Regina sits at her desk and waits; waits for the ringing of her home phone, her office phone, her cell phone. Waits for the knocks on her door and announcement on the news, but they never come.<p>

The silence is the same of every still, predictable and controlled night in Storybrooke; except she can hear the faint sounds of crickets outside. No ambulance sirens screaming in the distance, no murmur of curious citizens, no desperate cries of help.

_Nothing._

She knows the news should have spread already because the town's Sheriff dying would be shocking and unexpected and mournful; a death was never heard of in town and she had made sure that the dust of a once honorable man's heart had been spread so far apart there would be no putting it back together, not even by magic.

And yet…

She's startled by the sudden presence by the threshold of her office door, but years of practice taught her self-control and all she does is raise her eyes to the boy that had been her son until a few weeks ago. Now… now she doesn't know anymore; lying and tantrums and scheming and sneaking around and a look of constant defiance in his eyes, now she hardly recognizes him.

"Yes?" She asks when he doesn't say anything, stands there by the door, hands at his sides, mouth set and nervous feet; he senses her mood easily.

"Do I have to see Mr. Hopper tomorrow?"

Confusion turns into curiosity but it never shows on her face. He knows he's supposed to see his therapist without fail every week, that's how it's been for years and that's how it's going to be for as many more as needed. He never missed a session and he isn't about to start now. She knows the reason he's there has nothing to do with Archie Hopper and she tries to keep her expression firm. "That's not the reason you came to see me, Henry. What do you really want?"

"Can I see Emma tomorrow? Before I go see Archie." His first name slips through his lips before he can stop and Regina raises an eyebrow.

Her teeth clench at their own will and the anger she feels boiling up inside almost comes to the surface and she tries to control her temper before she says something that will never be unsaid. _Absolutely not_, is the first thing that comes to her lips, _you are forbidden of seeing that woman, you are forbidden of setting foot outside of this house, you are forbidden of breathing the same air, _but none of these words come out. The anger and hatred and disappointment and disgust she had felt all day suddenly ebbs into throbbing pulse of hurt; she's losing her son to that woman. Her _son._ "You're going to do what you want regardless of what I say."

"I thought I should ask." The innocence in his voice doesn't do anything to appease her mood and she looks away, down at her desk, pretends she's busy.

"It's almost 11pm, you should be in bed." She hears the shuffling of his feet, then silence.

"Good night," he says and when she looks up he's already gone.

_He's up to something_; she can read him like an open book, the catches in his voice and soft nuances on his face and all the little expressions she has come to learn during these ten years until he learned to hide from her.

The town is too quiet when it shouldn't be, crickets and people starting to get out of her grasp, out of her reach, out of her control and for a brief moment she wonders how much of a real threat her son is becoming.

_Tbc._


	3. three

**_Author's note_**: Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts! I really appreciate each and every one of them :)

So, apparently I just can't get Graham's voice right.

So this will be the last update for a while, I'm going away on the 19th for the Holidays and I'm not sure when I'll be back. I'm spending my birthday at my hometown (the 28th yay!) so I probably won't be back until the 30th. I guess I'll see you all again in 2012. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Enjoy the fic and please review :)

* * *

><p><em><strong>three.<strong>_

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Graham freezes mid motion, hand in the air halfway pushing his office door open and blinks at her, eyes as big as a deer caught in the headlights, a comical sight that she'd have laughed at if she wasn't so annoyed; hair falling all over his head and her hands itch to run fingers through his curls, put them back in place, pull him closer until there's no space between them. They itch but she closes them into fists at her sides and fights off the urge and reminds herself she's supposed to be angry.

_Ambush,_ he thinks because that's how it feels like. He isn't sure if he should continue or should step back, which motion is going to make her yell so he just stands there like a frozen statue considering his options. "Opening my office door?" he asks because if it isn't the right answer he won't be making a wrong statement.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I work here."

She puts her hands on her hips, deliberate, slow motion, to make him flinch and _maybe_ fear her a little, but the expression on her face isn't hard; she worries too much, more than she can be angry at him. _He should be home resting_, she thinks; he should make sure he's fine, that his heart is strong, that he won't scare her like that ever again. She stares at him as if he's going to slip through her fingers at any minute. "You should be home, Graham. _Resting_."

The look on his face softens, goes from hesitant to touched and the corners of his lips pulls back ever so slightly and something tingles inside of her. "I'm fine, Emma," he says as he walks towards her, tie and vest and jacket smoothly in place and the light in the room catches on his Sheriff star and she stares as he moves. There's something about the way he talks to her, the way he moves when he's around her and the way he looks at her, a warmth always present in his eyes, a softness in his voice, something she had never paid attention until last night.

_Now_… now she can look back and reply every little moment and watch him in her mind's eye and see it all unfolding; he always seemed so shy and innocent and eager to impress her and she had never noticed.

When he rests a hand on her hip she wonders when she let her hands fall to her sides and tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest and the way his fingertips burn holes on her skin and the way his words come back to her mind, so desperate and violent and pained and confused, _so I can understand_; his other hand brushes gently a lock of her golden curl away from her face, away from her forehead, exposing the cut. "I wanted to see you." She can almost hear a big chunk of her wall crumbling down.

She closes her eyes and tries to breath, tries to ignore the little voice in her head_ it's you who did it, it's you who made him question Regina, it's you who he wants, it's you who he has feelings for_. "That is _so_ not fair," she breathes out, keeping the childish whine out of her voice.

She opens her eyes when his hand rests against her cheek and he's smiling at her and she's breathless for a moment; there's _joy_ in his face and she can't remember the last time somebody looked at her as if she was all that mattered.

"I'm fine," he tries to reassure her but last night's memories are still fresh and even as she tries to trust him she can't help but be a little doubtful. Somebody's heart simply stopping isn't normal but she doesn't want to think about it anymore because he's right in front of her breathing and happy and warm, _alive. _"I promise."

She runs her hands up his arms until they're resting on his shoulders and moves closer into him. She feels _young_; he stares down at her with adoration in his eyes and she feels fresh and young and for the first time in 28 years she feels as if she's doing something right, like this is how she's supposed to be with a guy: new and easy and innocent and _free_. She had spent so much of her life in bad relationships or no relationships at all that she can hardly remember what it was like to feel wanted, _needed_.

She nods in response to him, enjoys as his arms wrap themselves around her body and his hands splay against her back and his breath fans over her face; it smells faintly of cocoa and she wonders briefly if anyone in this town ever drinks coffee; she doesn't care too much, though, because for some strange reason cocoa has always reminded her of _home_.

"How's your head? Feel better?"

"Doesn't hurt that much and the ice helped with the swelling." It had turned a nasty shade of green overnight, but she had managed to cover most of it with concealer and she hopes that Henry won't really notice.

"I'm sorry about that."

"It isn't your fault she's a crazy bitch." She doesn't know what she expected, maybe a laugh or a smile, but instead his body tenses and she immediately regrets the words; this isn't her, she reminds herself, but this time her thoughts left her mouth before she could fully process them. She forgot for a moment that in all this mess he's as hurt as she is. "Sorry."

"You don't know what she's capable of, Emma."

There's a hint of fear in his voice and of a warning and she frowns at it, she feels like there's more to Regina Mills than what she could possibly know, something that'd render Graham afraid, even if Emma isn't.

"I know she has her hands on everything in this town, apparently." Suddenly she feels like the mood is killed and tries to extract herself from Graham's embrace. And berates herself for being so ridiculous. _Ridiculous and childish_, her mind scorns and she's embarrassed because she was almost making out with Graham right in the middle of the police station in bright daylight the morning after he breaks up with the Mayor.

"Emma…" Graham holds her hand, doesn't let go and keeps her in place even while she pretends to fight him off; it wouldn't be Emma if she didn't put up some resistance.

She's still tired, she realizes. A dreamless sleep wasn't enough to ease her mind and relax her bones and she feels the start of a stellar headache in the back of her eyes; she's tired of being so strong and alone and _tainted_. She's broken and she knows that, most of her life she felt unwanted and welcome so she ruins anything before they can ruin her so she pushes him away.

_But he doesn't let her._

He tightens his arms around her and tilts his head down until they are eye to eye and he smiles and the action sends her stomach into little flip flops and she curses inwardly for being so weak; when did she start having this reaction to him? _Right_, she thinks, it was when he had stood up to Regina and she finally let herself see the man he is, see what has been right in front of her eyes all the time. "Thank you."

She's caught off guard, of all things he has to say this is certainly not what she expected. "For what?"

He brushes her hair away from her face again then rests his hand on her cheek, gently turning her face to_ just_ the right angle and she can't help it but lean into his touch. "For helping me."

She assumes he means last night and Regina and he lets her because it's easier than to explain a truth that is much more complicated than just a trivial break up. She has no idea what kind of control Regina really had on him and probably won't for a while, but he has to thank her. She did find his heart, and not literally.

He's the one to kiss her, to press his lips against hers and close his eyes at the feeling and this time there are no other life's memories to crash down on him and take his breath away and his control, to pull him from her and interrupt the moment.

She presses her body against him because there's nothing else she can do, nothing else she _wants_ to do; she just needs to feel more of him. His body is warm, it's always warm and runs her hands over his shoulders and while one moves around his neck the other moves up, until fingers are finally tangled into his hair and she can feel the soft curls against her fingertips and she sighs into his mouth because she's been wanting to do that for a while now; a lightening shoots through her body and she can feel the heat rise between them.

He kisses her with deliberate slowness, there's no urgency or desperation, his lips sliding across hers in expert motion, teasing and tasting and a moan rises in her throat and she can't even feel embarrassed because his arms tighten around her at the sound. The man has amazing hands, she thinks, amazing hands and she wants to tell him to touch her but there's no air, there's not enough will power to pull away and speak.

He's the one to pull away first, moving his lips down her cheek, and unsteadily he feathers kisses up the side of her neck to her ear and she can almost hear every resolve she has crunch like old leaves underfoot; at this very moment all she wants to do is rip all his clothes off and damned be everything else, damned be consequences, damned be her wall.

The shrill ringing of the old telephone suddenly cuts into her haze, startling both of them apart and as he looks at the direction of the sound she licks her lips, lets her hands fall from his hair and shoulder.

He moves away to answer the phone and she tries to keep her breathing under control, tries to ignore the sudden chill wrapping around her body, the cold the absence of his body leaves.

"Time to do some sheriffing," he says, smiling at her once he puts the phone back down and she's grinning like an idiot.

"Aye aye, captain."

"Just me," he continues when she moves to follows him and she frowns. "Shoplifting downtown. I know the kid. Besides, I need you to protect the forte."

She pulls her eyebrows together and tries not to roll her eyes at the joke; he's been trying to pull a lot of those since they met, all of which were very unsuccessful in being funny, though she can't help but let out a small chuckle at how lame he can be sometimes. "You really need to work on your jokes."

"I have all the time in the world I guess," he calls back and she watches his form disappears as he leaves the room.

There's a sudden quietness in the room, an emptiness she no longer knows; since she came to Storybrooke her life has been filled with friends and family and people who like and care about her. She feels loved every time she sees Henry and his smile grows and his eyes shines and she has thoughts of _what if_, what if she never gave him up, what if she watched him grow, what if she had always been loved by him; she feels loved every time she wakes up to Mary Margaret's smile and breakfast and looks of worry; she feels loved every time Graham makes an effort to impress her, to reach out to her, to be with her.

That's more, so much more than she has ever had in her entire life.

Emma brings a hand up and touches her lips with her fingertips; she can still feel his taste and his touch lingering on her even now.

**_Tbc._**

* * *

><p>So, that's it for a while, I hope it's enough to hold all of you until next year! Next chapter things are going to start getting a little more serious plotwise, after, Graham did survive a murder attempt and the mythology needs to be addressed.<p>

Please please review! All the alerts are very lovely, but it can't hurt to let me know what you think ;)


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